Third date- second base
Alternative title: When your blind date has a thing for blonds
(This is a late story originally meant for Halloween… it’s kind of graphic, just to warn weak hearted readers… )
She had invited me to her house.
“I´m making you dinner, all you have to do is bring yourself”, her text said. Then she emailed me the route to take by car.
It was only the third date but also: it was finally the third date. I took some pride in being chosen like this. When a beautiful woman like her invites you to her house like this, you can’t help but wonder what good deed you did that is finally catching up to you. I found myself taking credit for maybe being someone actually likable. Someone to listen to and laugh with. She listened. Her eyes lit up as she asked about my day. She had a way of asking questions that made me want to tell her everything. And she laughed at my jokes! Good god, she laughed at my silly jokes like she´d never experienced something as funny. And somehow I didn’t doubt her when she put her hand on mine on top of the restaurant table. Eyes teary, trying to catch her breath from laughing so hard. And she told me I was hilarious. Then she pulled back with a suddenly serious face.
“I Love hilarious”, she said to clarify her previous statement. I would smile and feel all warm on the inside.
Now, in the cab out to her house located in the woods, I was happy. And eager. Yes, it was only the third date but also: it was finally the third date. Third date equals second base, at least! You can imagine the state I was in as I walked up the porch steps to her door. I was warm and cold and excited and scared all at the same time. But then she opened the door on the second knock and everything was calm. She smiled widely. She said I looked pretty. I didn’t deny it: I felt pretty. She told me to get in from the cold and offered to take my coat. I obliged and watched her as she hung it on a hook beside the door.
“You’re beautiful”, I said, quietly, but she heard. She looked down, turned around and pulled her hand through her hair. She made a nervous joke about hoping there wouldn’t be any kids coming by for trick or treat so that we would be left alone. Then she hurried to lead me out in the kitchen where promised dinner was almost ready to be devoured.
I sat in her sofa after a marvelous dinner. Dreamily I thought, she´d make a perfect wife. I hurried to push that silly image out of my mind (the one where I would come home from work and find her standing in the kitchen making dinner. How I would walk up to her and wrap my arms around her from behind. She´d lean back into my embrace…) and tried to focus on the present – rather than pretentious housewife fantasies. She sat down beside me, suddenly, and shook me out of my food-coma daydreams. I looked at her in shock for a second, then I laughed nervously and brought up my wine glass to my mouth to sip as if nothing was wrong. She just smiled at me. There was something dark in her eyes. I stopped for a moment to look closer and while doing so I unconsciously then leaned closer. She just sat still and allowed me to indulge in her eyes for a moment. Then she reached out and took my glass from me. She placed it gently on the table in front of the sofa and sat back up again. I was slightly confused. Then her hand was on my knee and she was close to my face. Something turned inside my head, a switch. I was on. On and ready to go anytime. She must have noticed. But she chose to take it slow. She moved just close enough for our noses to touch. She was warm and her breath smelled of sweet wine. Her hand moved inches down my leg. Fingers drawing circles on my thigh. Carefully hitching up my skirt. Her eyes locked with mine. It was all blurry but I saw that darkness again. I was almost afraid to label it as lust; maybe I was projecting.
Her hand was now firmly placed, fingers spread out, on my inner thigh.
Maybe I wasn’t.
She pushed her lips onto mine.
Sparks and chills shoot out through my arms to my fingertips and down my spine. A warm coil of feelings awoke in my lower abdomen. Her other hand was tangled in my hair. Her lips were sweetly moving against mine. She twirled my hair around her fingers and pulled lightly. I made a purring noise of approval that had my mouth opened slightly. She pushed her tongue past my lips. Her hand was wandering so close to me now. I had my hand on her back. I found the knot that held her wonderfully revealing dress together. I worked on it as she touched me and moved her tongue around the inside of my mouth. It was so very warm. The heat between us was almost unbearable. Almost. I knew what was to come. I could wait. It could do me good with a slow, sticky start. It hadn’t been years but with her, right now, it felt like I was being touched for the first time. Like I was experiencing my first kiss.
The sudden cold startled me more than the sharp pain in my side and the warmth of blood soaking through my clothes. The knife had slid smoothly in between my crop top and my jeans. She held it still, deep in my body. One hand still tangled in my hair and her hot lips over mine. I whined, more in shock than in pain.
“It´s okay” she whispered onto my skin. And I was warm. Still so warm. She moved her hand to my neck. She pushed the knife into me and pushed me back. I leaned back, safe in her hand holding my neck. Allowed her to lay me down on the sofa. She kept reassuring me that everything would be all right as she climbed up to straddle my hips. Still holding the knife secure in my side. She took my hand and led it to the handle of the knife.
“Hold still” she said as my hand shook with effort to hold the handle. I breathed through my teeth and clenched the handle tight. She let go. She knife moved. I yelled loudly at the pain rushing through my body. I wanted to puke. I felt dizzy at the clearness of the cold steel tucked nicely into my hot flesh. The contrast made my sight blur and the tightness in my chest feel like sadness rather than fear. My head fell to the side and I watched her back as she walked through the room to the kitchen. She was really beautiful in that dress. I had no words. She turned around when she came to the kitchen stove. Our eyes met and she smiled. I smiled back. Or at least I tried, but everything hurt. She turned around and pushed something above the stove. Something like a button or… was she pulling a lever? At any case, it caused something to move. Through my blurred sight I saw a huge black mouth opening up in her kitchen wall. A passage. A door to a dark basement. She sighed and sounded pleased. Then she came back to me. She grabbed me by the wrists and pulled me violently off the sofa. I screamed and the knife fell onto the floor.
“You’ve really made a mess haven’t you,” she said as she started to drag me over the floor. I was crying. The yellow sofa had turned into a nice red. I screamed and cried and called her name as she dragged me towards the black gap in the kitchen. She went back to saying everything would be fine. She started cooing like I was a scared animal. She called me pretty. She told me “You’re so beautiful, today especially,” she told me she had planned to wait a little longer. That she didn’t expect me to show up looking like this. I though “like what” it was nothing out of the ordinary. Just a little makeup. Clothes to show you put an effort into it. She said it was better like this. We came to the stairs. As my body fell down, one step at the time, she said she loved me. That she would never regret doing this. That I was almost the best so far. We came to the last step and a lamp was lit. She dropped me on the floor. I just whined. I couldn’t move or scream anymore. Something was shoved into the wound in my side and I was itched up by a chain. My scream was hoarse and weak and not worthy to be called a scream. Then I cried some more. She was in front of me. Petting my hair and kissing my eyelids. Tracing my jaw to my throat and drawing patterns on my chest with her fingernails.
“I really like your hair like this” she whispered. I cried. She walked over to a table a little to the side and the room was suddenly open for me. I saw the stairs up to the kitchen. The traces of blood leading all the way from under me to the light atop the stairs. I saw the width of the room. The bodies hanging from the ceiling.
Then she appeared in my view again. She was holding a syringe and smiling fondly. She cupped my jaw gently, leaned forward and kissed me. Then she stabbed the syringe in my neck. I exhaled roughly. Dark spots appeared before me and soon, I was gone.